Today marks four years since Lilly passed over, and as I do each year, I am trying to articulate my feelings. People often ask how I feel on this painful anniversary, a question I also ask myself. I feel awful, like there was a hole in my chest and the world feels lifeless. I’m still struggling to pick up the pieces while living ‘life’. I laugh and cry, I get out of bed, I engage in activities, I travel, yet everything is tinged with her absence.
My wound is slowly turning into a scar. The scar feels wrong. Almost like a betrayal, as if I should be perpetually broken because she is gone. There is a voice of grief that whispers guilt whenever I feel okay or say I'm doing well. How dare I live life, while she is gone?
Over the past four years, grief and guilt have become part of my identity, shaping and changing me. Lilly’s death has defined me, but its impact is slowly shifting. Beneath the guilt, my true self reminds me that I have responsibilities to my life partner and other children. I need to be present and take part in their lives. My life encompasses both pain and healing. I hold on to the belief that both can coexist in the same heart.
Healing and pain, growth and sadness coexist within me. Does the scar of my wound mean I've forgotten Lilly, or does it signify that while my life is forever altered, it has to continue? This is life, all of it, the days of crippling pain and days of unexpected laughter. A healthy person still grieves, and a scarred person still remembers the wound.
I keep hearing her whisper ‘mum - it’s time to heal. It’s time to remember me and be grateful for the time you had with me. Mum - I’m good, I’m free of pain’. She keeps sending me various signs that I need to let go of her, I need to let her move on.
On this anniversary, I reflect on her memory, look at her photos, and imagine what life might have been with her. I cry, give thanks, and contemplate the intertwining of grief and living as life moves forward.
Lilly I miss you🙏🤍🙏
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